Sitting under the awning next to her truck, Vanille looked down the street and decided that the fair was beginning to wind down. She breathed a sigh of relief both because the long day was over, and because she was going to turn a decent profit from working the small town street fair. Considering her name, she might very well have been destined to sell homemade ice cream from the back of a truck, but it certainly hadn't been her plan.
A victim of the economic downturn, she was one of many cubicle dwellers suddenly out of a job. Unemployment wasn't enough to pay the bills, and most of the available jobs weren't much better. At twenty-eight, she was facing a dire future.
That's when the idea came to her.
Her father had used the truck to dish out ice cream at family reunions and church socials, but Vanille had bigger plans. Working small events like the street fair meant a lot of work to make a few dollars, but it also meant that she could stay off the radar of the government, using the money to supplement her unemployment.
Now, she at least had enough money to pay the bills, if not live comfortably.
The crowd continued to thin, and she decided to start packing up. Smoothing back her red locks, she stood up and went to work. It took a while to put everything away and take down the awning, and she wanted to be ready to roll for home once the last potential customers vanished from the street.
Naturally, someone had to break her lucky streak. One of the last people to walk up finally uttered the phrase she'd successfully avoided all day, and had come to despise.
We all scream for ice cream.
Somehow, she smiled and let out a convincing laugh, even though all she wanted to do was scream. It had been cute the first couple of times, but it was really beginning to wear on her.
Just as she was about to close the door of the truck and call it a day, someone came walking her way. Not one to let even a single dollar escape, she put on a smile when the man approached and said, "Can I help you?"
"I might be able to help you, actually." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a flyer. "We're looking for vendors to work an event, if you're interested."
"Always," Vanille said as she took the flyer and squinted at it in the dim light.
"The event is in two weeks, so I'll need you to give me a call soon."
She waved the flyer and said, "I'll look it over and let you know tomorrow."
"Looking forward to your call."
It was only after he walked away that she realized he hadn't even offered a name. Assuming it was on the flyer, she shrugged, and then yawned. Her bed was calling - and calling loudly. Vanille climbed in the cab, fired up the truck, and headed for home.
The next morning began the closest thing Vanille had to a day off. All that meant was that she was on the phone and the internet all day, trying to set up another event, rather than actually working one. She had to get far enough ahead during the summer season in order to make it through the winter and start the process all over again next year.
Sipping her second cup of coffee, she sat down at her computer, and then remembered the flyer. She pulled it out of her purse and took a look to see if it might be worth calling back about.
Her eyes went wide as she read the flyer. From what she was reading, there were no fees of any kind. Utilities were provided free of charge. A chit system meant that she wouldn't even have to actually handle any money. It was everything she usually had to turn on the charm to get, provided up front. If the estimated attendance for the three day event was accurate, she stood to make some serious money.
Too good to be true, she thought, but she picked up the phone anyway.
The voice that answered sounded like the same man who had handed her the flyer, and identified himself by the name on the flyer - Matthew Gerrin. After explaining who she was, she launched into the questions.
"Yes, that's exactly right," he said in the end, confirming everything in the flyer. "So, you're thinking, what's the catch?"
"The thought had crossed my mind."
Matt laughed. "Well, there is one, but I doubt it's anything you would have expected. The event we're hosting is a Nude Day gathering of several nudists groups. It starts on Nude Day and runs through Saturday. All of your customers are going to be naked for the three days of the event."
"That is a bit of a catch," Vanille said and chuckled. "I think it's something I can deal with though."
"Good to hear. Unfortunately, that's not the only stipulation. In order for our visitors to feel comfortable, we require our vendors to be nude as well."
Vanille's mouth dropped open and she couldn't find any words to respond to that.
He continued, "Keep in mind that there are passes to enter the property, and only those who have been invited will be allowed in. Once inside, no clothing is allowed beyond the parking area. Everyone who will be there is a nudist."
"I ... I don't know."
"I know it's a shock, and I certainly don't expect an immediate answer. Take some time to think it over. As long as you can confirm by next weekend, that's fine. We'd really love to have you. I've been hunting for an ice cream vendor for the last two years, and having homemade ice cream is just a bonus."
Surprise warred with the potential profit in her head, but neither was gaining any ground. "I'm definitely going to have to think about it."
"Perfectly fine. I'll be hoping to hear back from you."
Vanille hung up the phone, her lips pursed and brow knitting. After a minute or so, she stood up and walked away from the computer. Even though she hadn't done anything like it in several years, it wasn't as if public nudity was entirely new to her. During college, she'd gone through a phase of exhibitionism, and even ended up in two Girls Gone Wild style videos.
That was college, though, and she was pushing thirty.
A tug of her shirt tail revealed her tummy. It certainly wasn't as flat as it had been when she was in college, but not too bad. A few steps brought her to the bathroom, and she took a look in the mirror while pulling her shirt higher. Gravity wasn't taking too much of a toll on her breasts, which was a miracle considering how blessed she was up top. She turned in profile and let out a noncommital hmm.
Pulling her top back down, she turned her back to the mirror and dropped her shorts. She had to admit that her butt still looked pretty good. A shake showed a bit more jiggle than she might have liked, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. When she turned around, the first real problem cropped up - or rather, needed cropping.
The constant struggle to keep income flowing meant that she didn't have a whole lot of spare time, and one thing that had fallen to the wayside was trimming the nest of red curls between her legs. It wasn't as if anyone was going to see that anyway, as sex was something else that had dropped off the radar. She could barely see her hood ring through the bramble patch, let alone anything else.
Trimming, shaving, and some crunches were in order, but altogether, she wasn't falling apart too badly. A little of the show-off within her crept to the surface once more, and she cocked her hips, affecting a coquettish grin. The image smiling back at her caused her to laugh, and she pulled her shorts back up before walking away.
The money was too good to pass up. Barely ten minutes after hanging up the phone, she picked it up again to confirm that she was on board for the event.
Vanille pulled up behind a car waiting at the gate, her stomach full of butterflies. She'd been fine right up until turning onto the last gravel road, but now she felt as nervous as a virgin on prom night. The car ahead went through, and it was her turn.
Here goes nothing.
The man in the booth - who was fully clothed - smiled when she pulled up. "I would guess that you're Vanille Melhart?"
She nodded. "That's me."
"Give me a second to give Matthew a call. He'll get you set up and going."
The butterflies went into a positive frenzy while the gatekeeper talked on his cell. Vanille swallowed hard when he stepped out and lifted the gate.
"You'll see the parking area just around that curve ahead. Matthew has his tent set up there, and he's waiting for you."
She didn't have long to wait after turning the corner before the reality of what she was doing hit her. The first thing she saw besides the many cars parked on the gravel lot was a nude, middle-aged couple walking away from their car, farther into the wooded area. A second later, Matthew stepped out of his tent.
He looked completely at ease as he walked toward her truck, a cock of average length swinging with his steps. The only thing he wore was a necklace of colored beads, and he was carrying a similar one.
"Last chance to back out," he said, and then laughed. "If you think you're still up for it, you can go ahead and get undressed, and I'll lead you to where you can set up."
She'd come this far, and the potential to make enough money to conscience taking a real day off pushed her over the edge. "I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be."
His smile widened, and he held up the necklace. "Everything is priced on even half dollars or dollars. The white are fifty cents, red are a dollar, blue are five, and purple is ten. We can just take yours out when we pay you each day for how many you've collected. Wallets aren't exactly convenient, considering the dress code."
.... There is more of this story ...